


can't ever keep from falling apart at the seams

by smutpeddler



Series: Sunshine and Bruises [2]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Language, Mild Depictions of Abuse, References to Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 18:10:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15273315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smutpeddler/pseuds/smutpeddler
Summary: he wasn't a white knight, more like grey





	can't ever keep from falling apart at the seams

**Author's Note:**

> so i know these chapters are a little short but i'm sorta getting used to writing billy. so suffer with me just a little while longer
> 
> Tumblr; wherewecangazeintothestars.tumblr.com

It's not all sunshine and rainbows for Veronica, it makes it harder to pretend to hate her. He almost drives away, deciding it's none of his business and maybe seeing her with this other guy would finally make the image of her stop jumbling around in his head. Till he grabs her, hard, hard enough to see her wince from across the parking lot and begins to drag her. Climbing out of the car, he storms towards the duo.  
  
“Cassidy stop, seriously,” she's pleading, trying not to make a scene.  
  
Billy drops his cigarette on the ground, “I don't think the lady wants to go with you,” it's not in his nature to be chivalrous. In fact, he shouldn't give a shit, wasn't he the one who wanted to see Little Miss Perfect fall.  
  
Not like this.  
  
“This is between me and my girlfriend, okay man?” the guy turns, a skinny fella that looks just a bit wired to know what's really going on.  
  
She's looking between the two men, shrinking back as if the brick wall of the arcade would somehow swallow her up. This isn't happy, this isn't smiling, it's pure fear.  
He smirks, “Nah, not okay,” turning his gaze to her, “Get in the car,” he doesn't like it, this isn't what he had meant.  
  
The boyfriend's grip tightens, “Don't you fucking dare.”  
  
“Veronica, get in the car,” watching how she glanced at Cassidy, now shaking with more than just his high, “Don't look at him, look at me,” making sure those eyes, the ones the color of milk chocolate and honey, are locked with his, “Get in the fucking car.”  
  
With a finally glance she rips her arm away, not sparing a glance back as she ran to the Camaro and slid in the passenger's seat. That's not Billy's focus now, right now it's giving this guy a piece of his mind.  
  
“You don't talk to her, alright? You don't look at her. Hell, you don't even think about her,” rolling his tongue across his bottom lip with a twisted smirk, “Got it?”  
They've seem to come to an understanding, but junkies are cowards. When Billy turns his back, the lanky boy flails as if to hit him and misses. It's easy for him, to hit him, over and over until he's laying in the fetal position on the ground. He shakes his knuckles as he stands, sliding a cigarette between his lips and sauntering to his car. Where Veronica is sitting staring at him with wide eyes that aren't scared but aren't happy. He doesn't really give a fuck, right?  
  
“You alright?” he asked, sliding into the car.  
  
He'd done a lot of messed up stuff. A lot. But you never hit someone you're supposed to love. It's the only bit he's got left, of something before. He can pretend to care for a few minutes.  
“Um, yeah, I think so,” looking down out her lap.  
  
He leans over, “Give it here, come on, before I change my mind about this whole white knight bullshit.”  
  
He takes her arm gently in his hands, she hisses but she tries so hard not to. He knows the look well, knows how the body shakes when you try to swallow it down. It's already begin to swell and bruise, it'll be nasty. It's the newest of many.  
  
“That jackass know where you live?” she nods, “Alright then.”  
  
The engine roars to life, music pounding, and he squeals out of the parking lot. Max'll find her own way home, not that he really gave a shit. He was Billy Hargrove and he wasn't supposed to give a shit about anything or anyone.  
  
“Thanks,” she shouts over the music.  
  
His head turns, thinking he must've imagined it, “What?”  
  
“Thank you! For that back there!” making sure he hears her this time.  
  
It was a warm feeling. No one had ever thanked him for anything before. He hadn't done a whole lot of things worth thanking if was honest with himself.  
  
“No problem, sweetcheeks,” maybe it really wasn't one.


End file.
